


your eyes are wider than distance

by grapehyasynth



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Baseball, Baseball Boyfriends, Established Relationship, International Travel, Japan, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, POV David Rose, Toronto Blue Jays, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28670730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/pseuds/grapehyasynth
Summary: The Blue Jays are playing a friendly series in Japan and David misses his boyfriend. (Inspired by I'd Swing With You for the Fences.)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 69
Kudos: 276





	your eyes are wider than distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nontoxic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nontoxic/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I'd Swing With You for the Fences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492729) by [nontoxic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nontoxic/pseuds/nontoxic). 



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY NONTOXIC! Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox. I've had this idea percolating for ages and am so glad that your birthday gave me a reason to finally write it hahaha. 
> 
> I can't guarantee that this would actually reasonably fit in the timeline of ISWYFTF, but hopefully it still carries the same energy and vibe. 
> 
> If you haven't read ISWYFTF, this might still make sense, but I mean, I have to recommend that you read that. Just. For your general happiness.
> 
> Inspired also by "Lost in Japan" by Shawn Mendes.
> 
> Title from Taylor Swift, which is ALSO a gift to you, NT, because I do not know TS. 
> 
> Shoutout to alldaydream/maybewecandreamalittle for feedback, support, and the title!!!

**do you have plans tonight**

David’s phone rings seconds after the read receipt shows up under the text he’s just sent Patrick. He considers not answering, because this conversation would be easier to have over text, but he hasn’t spoken to his boyfriend in fifty-four hours and he’s a weak, weak man. 

“Oh, hi,” he says breezily. 

“When you say tonight, what time zone are you talking? I have practice til late but could Facetime after.” 

“Actually,” and maybe if he says it casually enough Patrick won’t make it a big deal, “I was thinking more literally face to face.” 

There’s a long pause, and he’d wonder if the call got dropped if he couldn’t hear Patrick’s teammates in the background. “I mean, you know I prefer that, David, but unless there’s some holographic technology I’m not aware of-” 

“I’m in the neighborhood,” he interjects. “I thought I could meet you at your hotel tonight.” 

“And when you say you’re in the neighborhood - I thought that exhibit in Singapore wasn’t until the fall.” 

“Um, a little bit less Singapore and a little bit more Silver Lake?”

“David! Los Angeles is not _in the neighborhood_.” 

“Okay, I knew I should’ve just flown out without asking you. It’s _fine_ , I have the jet. It can’t be more than, what, a couple hundred miles?” 

Patrick laughs. “Hang on.” There’s a muffled noise on his end, more laughter, and then he’s back, and David resents the relief he feels, like having Patrick’s voice is a consolation for the actual distance between them. “Ted says it’s more like 5000 miles, actually, bud.” 

“Please tell me he’s the one who said bud.” 

“I don’t know, that could be cute for us. David Rose, my bud, my pal.” 

“I’ll divorce you,” and oh god, if they were texting he would’ve been able to pull that one back before it got out; he can’t joke about _marriage_ with the _guy he’s dating_. 

“David, you know I would love to see you, but I can’t ask you to make that trip. At the very least think of the ice caps you’d be melting.” 

“It’s fine!” he repeats. “I’m overdue for a trip to Japan anyway. You’re just, like, a bonus, honestly.” 

“Oh, well, in that case, maybe I’ll be too busy to hang out with you when you get here.” 

David pouts and shakes his frustration out with a full-body wriggle, very glad Patrick can’t see him. “I just really want to see you, okay?” he blurts out. “I know it’s not practical or chill and it’s probably too much and you’re probably having a lot of fun without me, but I just - I miss you and I got this picture in my head of the things we could do in that bathtub in your hotel room, and there’s a shaved ice shop in Shinagawa that would be a cute post-victory date night, and-” 

“David,” Patrick interrupts, and the background noise from earlier is gone, like he’s moved to a quieter, more private part of the clubhouse. “Please come to Japan.” 

David presses his lips together so Patrick won’t hear the relief that wants to rattle out. “I’m already packed.” 

“See you soon, bud.” 

⚾⚾⚾

Patrick’s asleep in the lobby of the hotel when David arrives, looking unbearably cuddly in his Blue Jays hoodie and joggers. It’s late, so he thinks they’re safe from paparazzi, but he still glances around before dropping to a squat in front of his boyfriend and gently touching his knees. 

“Hi,” he whispers as Patrick blinks blearily awake. 

“David,” Patrick breathes, and nothing ever prepares David for the way Patrick says his name. There’s an echo of something he knows from personal experience in the tone, a disbelief at something slotting into place. 

David gathers the ends of the strings on Patrick’s sweatshirt and tugs him in for a soft, sleepy, somewhat uncoordinated kiss. 

“Let’s go upstairs, I’m filthy,” he murmurs. He’d spent about a third of the flight mentally ranking the sex acts he wanted to get up to with Patrick upon arrival, but that’s looking significantly less important than a shower and a cuddle. God, Stevie’s right - their love _is_ disgusting. 

“Yeah you are,” Patrick grins, but there’s no heat behind it.

David helps him up, not even expecting Patrick to grab any of his luggage, which is honestly a _big_ sign of his personal growth. As they turn to go, he spots a paper with scribbles of Patrick’s handwriting on it on the table next to the chair Patrick’s just vacated. He nabs it and leads them towards the elevator. 

On the way up to Patrick’s room, as Patrick droops into his shoulder, sleepy breath hot against David’s neck, David unfolds the paper. It’s a print-out of a flight path between Los Angeles and Tokyo, marked out in segments identified as 200-mile increments. **A couple hundred miles** , Patrick has written in blocky, emphatic all-caps, and David understands immediately that this was meant for him, to tease him about saying he was in the neighborhood. 

It looks like Patrick had gotten bored while waiting, his chicken scratch marked all over the page. There’s a stick drawing of what David can only assume is himself riding an airplane, based on a couple of swooping lines that vaguely mimic the shape of his hair, which is _very incorrect_ but, unfortunately, effective _._ Patrick has written David’s departure time next to Los Angeles, and then he’s attempted to calculate how quickly the Rose family jet would conquer each 200-segment, through a series of incomprehensible equations. He’d apparently given up halfway into the Pacific and just written **Too many miles!!** David feels that nagging sourness, that _is this too much_ that has pursued him across the ocean. 

As he’s refolding the paper, he notices again the scribbles on the outside of the paper that had originally caught his eye. There’s a sketchy baseball, something that could be either a thumb or a face, a few phrases that look like song lyrics - and Patrick’s also written **Too many miles, but David is making it better**. 

He presses a kiss to Patrick’s hair, blinking against sudden tears. 

⚾⚾⚾

The Blue Jays win two of their three games at the Tokyo Dome, which means two nights of victory sex and dates on the town and one night of pouty Patrick, which is almost as good. 

“How strict is Rogers Centre about bringing food from home?” David asks on their last morning as they wander through Asakusa, holding hands in time they’ve stolen via Patrick’s decision to fly back on the Rose family jet rather than with the rest of the team. 

Patrick laughs. “You know, I haven’t had to think about that in a few years, so I’m not sure. Why?” 

“Well, the refreshments at the Tokyo Dome were _far_ superior to the paltry offerings at home, no offense. And I spent a solid six innings the other night plotting how I could get you to transfer to the Yomiuri Giants, because I could really get behind you in a big way if I had access to this kind of food at every game. I mean, who needs peanuts when you can have edamame? And the yakisoba in a little keepsake batting helmet? Even I can recognize the marketing value.” 

Patrick grins up at him from under one of the commemorative ball caps the other team had given each of the Blue Jays players at the end of the series. “So, when should I expect a transfer offer?” 

“Oh, no.” David waves his free hand quickly. He’s only just getting comfortable with things like rearranging his entire schedule to fly halfway around the world just for a few days with his boyfriend; he’s not ready to face the sacrifices and compromises Patrick would make for him in return. “As I said, the fantasy only lasted six innings. I know how much you love your little bluebirds.” 

That, too, had been a big moment of recognized growth for him, when he realized that he knew how significant it is that Patrick and so many of his teammates specifically like _this_ team, _this_ franchise, _this_ experience; how grounding and fulfilling it is for them to be able to stay in one place and really build something rather than being traded around every season. 

“I do,” Patrick says, “I do love my bluebirds. Among other things.” 

The way he squeezes David’s hand and smiles at him leaves no mystery as to who is among those other things. 

“So instead,” David goes on, “I’m thinking I could just swing by Miku or Yasu on my way to your home games. It would significantly improve my gameday experience. I just need to figure out how to get it into the box without stadium staff sniffing it out and throwing it in a trash can, which would be a minor crime against humanity.” 

“Well, I might know a guy on the team who knows a guy in security who might be willing to look the other way.” 

“Oh, really?” David’s so, so glad he made this trip, even though his sleep schedule is going to be fucked for weeks. He can’t stop smiling. “Any chance I can talk to your contact on the team? He might be my new favorite person.” 

“That should make things easy,” Patrick says, “because you’re already _his_ favorite person.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Art by alldaydream/maybewecandreamalittle


End file.
